


I See You In My Dreams

by anysin



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Character is Ashamed of Their Desire to Submit, Dream Sex, Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23375893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/pseuds/anysin
Summary: Malcolm dreams of his childhood bedroom, and his father.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Martin Whitly
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	I See You In My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Origen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Origen/gifts).



In the dream, Malcolm finds himself in his childhood bedroom. He can see someone standing in the darkness, and of course he knows who it is.

"Damn you," he whispers, willing himself to move slowly as he sits up. Even in the dream - maybe especially in dreams - he can't help but shiver in fear. "Can't you give me one good night's sleep?"

His father smiles to him from the dark, taking a step towards the bed. Malcolm starts to pull his legs towards himself, although he knows it's pointless; he isn't going anywhere. He lets Martin approach him slowly, patiently, and while Malcolm himself can't stop shivering, Martin never once stops smiling.

"Of course not. You couldn't give me my freedom, could you?" Martin sits down on the edge of the bed, and even though Malcolm is a grown man now, his father still looks big and intimidating to his eyes. Martin reaches out, resting his hand on Malcolm's cheek; his hand feels cold and clammy, and his thumb is rough when he strokes it over Malcolm's cheekbone.

"It only seems fair that we haunt each other," Martin says, eyes sliding halfway shut as he keeps looking at Malcolm. His gaze is soft with pleasure and affection, much like in real life. "Seriously though, Malcolm, you could wake up any time you wished to. Why aren't you?"

That isn't true: most of the time, Malcolm has to suffer through his dreams, let them run their course all the way to the end. But this time, Martin is right: Malcolm could open his eyes right now and put an end to this, and try to dream better dreams. But Malcolm doesn't. He is afraid, like he always is, but he still has a measure of control this time; he might as well make use of it. He might as well try to see this through, see what his father does to him this time around.

He remains silent, which makes Martin's smile widen. He reaches out with his other hand, grasping Martin's face with both hands as he leans into kiss him.

 _This_ should have him starting awake. He should be pulling away at least, or pushing Martin away, doing _something_ \- he lets it happen. He watches his father's face as Martin kisses him, his mouth hungry and demanding, and Martin's eyes remain open just like Malcolm's, staring right into his soul. They are hungry too.

Malcolm almost wonders what Martin of his dream can see in his eyes. 

"Why don't you make room for your father?" Martin asks him as he pulls away from the kiss, his breathing already heavier. "Let your father keep you warm." 

He does hate it how easy it is for him, to obey his father when there are no restraints holding Martin back from him, no prison guards around to protect him. Malcolm rolls over to his side and scoots over towards the edge of the bed, hearing as Martin unbuckles his belt somewhere behind him. Malcolm takes in a deep breath; maybe this is when the dream will take a violent turn, when his father will strangle him. Instead, Martin climbs up on the bed and spoons up behind Malcolm, his cock already hard and exposed as he rubs it against Malcolm's ass. 

Malcolm's heart begins to beat faster. 

"Remember when you wanted me to sleep with you after you had a nightmare?" Martin asks him, reaching down between Malcolm's legs. He grasps his groin through his boxers, giving him a light squeeze. "I would stay with you for the entire night until you fell asleep again, and sometimes longer than that. Nice times, weren't they?" 

Martin fondles him through his boxers, tracing the shape of Malcolm's cock with his fingertips as he presses his face into Malcolm's neck, taking a deep inhale. Malcolm can feel his lips part as he begins to pant, his cock growing hard; is this his body remembering something from his childhood, or is it just recalling the touches of his own hand from reality? He doesn't know. He hates that he is surrendering to his father with such ease, as if he hasn't spent years trying to become his own person, someone who isn't just a serial killer's son. 

Would it be this easy in reality too, for his father to take him over again? The idea makes Malcolm flush with shame, but it doesn't stop his cock from swelling in his boxers, now straining against the fabric as his father grasps his length and gives it a pump. 

"Good boy." Martin kisses him on his neck, once, twice. "Would you like to take them off, or should I?" 

Malcolm doesn't hesitate. Rolling over to his stomach, he takes his hands to the waistband of his boxers and starts to push them past his hips, his face burning even redder and hotter as he exposes himself. The moment his ass is bare, his father presses against him, already nude from the waist down himself; his cock is hot and hard as it nestles between Malcolm's buttocks, throbbing against him while Martin's hands run along his body, slipping underneath his shirt to pet his chest and stomach. A sad, pathetic little wince escapes Malcolm's throat, drawing a chuckle from Martin. 

"I should have known," Martin whispers against his ear, his hips pressing harder against Malcolm's ass. "Never stopped being daddy's boy, did you?" 

There is no need to answer in words; Malcolm's legs are already spreading open, making him even more vulnerable to his father. Martin accepts the invitation immediately, wrapping one firm arm around Malcolm's waist while he spits twice into his other hand, taking it down to his cock. Malcolm can hear him slick himself, and soon he feels his father's cock press against his hole, pushing insistently against the rim. 

"It's all good, Malcolm." Martin kisses him on the shell of his ear and pulls Malcolm up on his hands and knees, pressing up tight against him. "Daddy never stopped loving you, either." 

At this point, all Malcolm can do is gasp as his father starts to push inside him. Martin's arm remains around Malcolm's waist, holding him still while his other hand finds its way back to Malcolm's now naked cock, grasping it tight as he starts to stroke it. His father's grip is tight, tighter than Malcolm's own, possessive. It feels amazing and Malcolm can't help but moan, bucking back against his father's thick cock. His father leans down to kiss along his neck as he starts to thrust into Malcolm, soon moving hard enough to make the bed rock beneath them. 

"I never stopped loving you at all," Martin says, jerking Malcolm's cock as he pounds into him, every thrust deep and powerful, making Malcolm see stars. "And one day, I'm going to make you all mine again." 

Malcolm squeezes around Martin's cock every time Martin thrusts in, making Martin grunt in pleasure behind him, his fist moving even faster on Malcolm's cock. Malcolm can't stop himself from crying out every time his father slams deep inside him, claiming him inside out, making sure there is no part of Malcolm that he hasn't thoroughly touched. He's ashamed of how good it feels, how right, to be at his father's mercy, to give into him. 

It's like he doesn't want to wake up anymore. 

"I love you," Martin whispers against his ear, hand squeezing tight around Malcolm's cock as Malcolm reaches his peak, spilling his seed on the mattress. It doesn't even take second for his father to start coming inside him as well, burying himself deep enough that Malcolm can't tell where his father ends and where he begins anymore. 

"And I will always be there," Martin says, and that's what finally gets Malcolm to wake up. 

* 

Malcolm opens his eyes in reality, and finds himself in his own home. 

The sight of it fills him with both relief and guilt, but the latter soon takes over his whole brain, making him cover his eyes with his hands. He can feel that his boxers are damp from the front, and he knows they will be stained with his seed once he takes them off; it's like he's still a teenager having wet dreams. Except this is so, so much worse than that, to the point he knows he won't ever be able to bring it up with his therapist. What the fuck is wrong with him? 

He can't let his father get this deep underneath his skin. 

But the reality is, Martin is already there. 


End file.
